Melodrama!!!: The Opener Prompt

[altanhawke]

Find My Character Look at the state you're in! How did this happen...?

Listen, maybe I don't want to know. Let's just deal with what you have going on now.

how to play

• Your character needs help; those who reply get to decide the predicament they find your character in.
• If you think this holds dangerous potential, you're absolutely correct.
• Thread your way out of this fix.

prompts

• Tears - Find my character crying.
• Rest - Find my character sound asleep.
• Dream - Find my character moving in their sleep due to a dream or nightmare.
• Bleed - Find my character injured.
• Drink - Find my character drunk.
• Collapse - Find my character blacked out on the ground.
• Leaving - Find my character dying.
• Grave - Find my character dead.
• Fear - Find my character panicking about something.
• Hide - Find my character hiding from something or someone.
• Anger - Find my character very angry.
• Escape - Find my character trying to run away from something or someone.
• Toxic - Find my character poisoned.
• Bruise - Find my character badly beaten up. 
• Freeze - Find my character trying to keep warm in the cold.
• Battle - Find my character in the middle of a fight with someone or something.
• Saw - Find my character getting a limb amputated. 
• Cough - Find my character coughing out blood.

Comments

[serge_sallust]

With each word from Altan, Del's brow furrows more deeply. Her demeanor is usually cool, ironic, and taunting, but an urgency is shaking her, nearly physically. "Tollum, this aligns with our fears, and Bekka's warnings. They see our complacency and they mean to take advantage of it." Del looks at Altan directly, eyes hungry for hope "I don't trust easily, Altan, but a turncoat sorcerer is too large an advantage to lose to caution. You have to help us stop them."

Serge winces at Del's frank words. His respect for Del is vast, perhaps vaster than for Tollum, and this uncomfortable earnestness, and her knack for getting ahead of Tollum is one reason why. He won't get in the middle of this.

But Tollum agrees. "Del doesn't trust easily, so imagine what it takes to earn mine. Yet, she's right. We'd stand no chance against the sorcerers backing a Lordist recapture on our own." He folds his arms with a huff. "But we also need to the city behind us."

[altanhawke]

At Del’s desperate look, Altan arranges his own face into his most reassuring cast. He knows that he’s taking advantage, but he’s done worse. And he knows precisely the kind of reassurance she’s looking for.

At ‘we need to get the city behind us’, Altan examines his nails. “Indeed. Although I wouldn’t imagine a fellow cloistered in sorcerous society til this point would be the first man to rally it.”

[serge_sallust]

Serge cocks his eyes at Altan's preening. A strange man, growing stranger with every word he speaks, offering help to a gaggle of Freemen on the radical edges of their own loose coalition with such nonchalance he could give himself a mental manicure during it. Does he know what he's getting into? Doubtful, but Serge sensed when he pulled the sword from his gut this was a man that knew how to bargain with danger and sometimes escape with a profit.

A knock comes from the door. Tollum shifts his weight and his hand to his hilt. Serge twirls like a top to face the door, Hand in his jacket, the tip of his knife tenting its fabric. "Oi! Tollum, ye settl'd on a route yet? The crew'll be anxious to argue over it wit' ye soon." It was Maddge, another boatswain, come himself to check on the status of Tollum's plans.

The taut air relaxes, and Serge opens the door to let Maddge in. "You can be privy to our discussion, Maddge, and our new crewmember, Altan, who helped suggest our new route to us" Serge makes an open palm gesture to the rogue sorcerer. "Though we may not be leaving right away, so they'll be plenty of time for the crew to argue." Serge looks meaningfully at Tollum, then Del. "And much grand strategy to discuss."

[altanhawke]

His movements still decorated with a performative flounce, Altan pulls up the nearest empty chair and drops into it. “Indeed. Captain, have you or your crew ever gone up against sorcerers before? I imagine that you’re quite practiced at taking privateers, Guildsmen - but sorcerers?”

[serge_sallust]

"Never had to sharpen my sword to meet a sorcerer, no, but they never were a threat before." Tollum leans back, reasserting his calm and control of the room. "But I'm hoping you'll give us some advice on that front, Altan. Perhaps you can train our crew and teach us all your weaknesses?"

Serge lets out a snore and sees Maddge giving Altan a suspicious eye with a twisted mouth. He rests his hand on Maddge's shoulder, "That's right, our new crew member is a sorcerer. Interesting times eh?"

[Easing back into this and getting my bearings with the story and characters again, but it's good to be back.]

[altanhawke]

“A wise man always holds a last secret back,” Altan says, surveying the new interlocutors with amiable curiosity. “But I can certainly give up a few secrets; like many things, a sorcerer’s - well, reputation proceeds him. Keep a steady head, and whatnot.”

[serge_sallust]

The one good eye of Maddge narrows even further on Altan, threatening to pop out. "And what might yer reputation be? That we can share with our mates. It'll be their first sorcerer crew member, so they'll expect great things I'm sure."

"I can tell you he holds his own in dark alleys, Maddge." Serge turns his wry glance to Altan, "And he takes his coffee strong, like everyone else on the ship."

[altanhawke]

“And when I was living among that nest of vipers,” Altan said, “I could adapt my reputation for what my reputation needed to be, depending on the viper I was wrangling.” Without waiting for an invitation or even openly requesting one, he pulls up the nearest unoccupied chair and drops into it with a barely-perceptible wince. “People like a certain kind of honest man, if he’s agreeable, even if far too many of his fellows think he’s honest for that to actually be the case. But don’t worry - I’m no spy of theirs. I’d have died if Serge hadn’t intervened on my behalf, and if I were their man, that’s too expensive a risk for them.”

[serge_sallust]

Serge does not wear any skepticism of Altan's words, choosing instead to betray only an earnest amusement. He's been seeing the adaptations of Altan play out before him since they first met along the docks. The waters were still favorable, yet still uncharted. "And it'd be too risky to make any move against the sorcerers without someone who knows them, or all of Sandsparr behind us. Tollum, if the other captains know of what's to come, they'll rally with us. We should call a council."

Del, Maddge, and Bene all look to Tollum expectantly, Del nodding, and Bene wide-eyed and gaping. Tollum shifted his folded arm as though weighing invisible concerns on each elbow. "It's been years. The captains'll need to be convinced there's a plot against the city, that they're building this scrying mirror for an invasion."

[altanhawke]

Altan sucks his cheek in as if he’s abruptly seen an old friend with whom he has a complicated relationship, or has abruptly had a debt called in.

He looks carefully, slyly, almost apologetically at Tollum. “Of course, I imagine that such a meeting might be - exciting. But civil, of course. Being as respected in your title as you are.”

[this is getting a bit Pirates of the Caribbean, not that I’m complaining at all : P]

[serge_sallust]

Maddge lets out a yawp at Altan's passing commentary. "Now, civil is a word that doesn't get much use around Sandsparr. Respect fares little better, eh old Tollum?" Bene and Del fail to hide their winces. Maddge is as ornery as a crab, but they never adjusted to his tongue as Serge has.

"Indeed, Maddge, respect and civility are not commonplaces in Sandsparr." Tollum turns to his desk and jots brief words on slips of paper. "But every captain knows that survival is the child of cooperation." He hands slips of paper to Del, Maddge, and Serge. "Call on the captains I've written down for you. We'll start with them."

Serge looks down at his slip. Captain Rillsgaad. "Been a while since I've seen this name. Altan, up for a constitutional?" Serge tries to hide his concerned look by turning his face directly to Altan. It's a bit of a walk.

[I've never seen any of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies! Hope I'm doing them justice]

[altanhawke]

Altan winces very slightly. He’s been holding himself and talking with an alert energy, and it’s unclear whether he was hiding his remaining wound or, in the excitement of intriguing, had genuinely forgotten it. “I’d be more up to it with a stiff drink.”

[Oh wow, you haven’t? We need to binge the trilogy sometime. They’re not high art, but I’m fond of them]

[serge_sallust]

"A plea heard on the lips of every honest pirate. We can get a mid-morning grog on the way - no freebooter ever walks these streets completely sober." Serge turns and flicks a brief salute towards his crew and captain, who all eye him with varying degrees of concern. He holds the door open and motions for him to come along.

[I had not forgotten about this!]

[altanhawke]

[oh no worries : P]

Altan gets up, flourishes a bow at the Captain, and strides out; the moment he’s followed Serge around a corner, or one of the multistory buildings or heaps of crates hides them, he slumps his back against that surface and breathes deeply and steadyingly for a moment, pressing a palm to his stomach.

“Maker. I haven’t done that without the backing of my strong right arm for - years. Tell me, how did I do?”

[serge_sallust]

Serge slips his arm through Altan's to support him with the swift motion of a journeyman boatswain tying a knot on the gunwales. After they move a few steps from the captain's flat, Serge leans into Altan, "Your dedication to elaborate displays of politeness and ease may not be so good the wound on your belly, but I think you played your role well." He grins and brushes his hand through the mist slowly rising up from street stones. "Enough to earn a mid-morning grog. Rillsgaad can wait for the city's fog and ours to lift. Slake's Pit is a narrow and tawdry tavern near his quarters. Fitting for a Captain like him. Their pours are mostly froth, but will do."

[altanhawke]

“If I lose the knack of getting a new crew to take me on …” He laughs, mostly surprised coughing, at the offer of drinks. “Right. Pirates. Well, Maker forbid I be anything but game. Might cut the ache from this Blighted gut-wound.”

[serge_sallust]

Serge lifts his eyebrow at the word 'Blighted' like it's the mizzenmast. He steers Altan through the street, weaving him towards the tavern. "Is that gut-wound going to heal on its own? Can't your magic so something for it?"

[altanhawke]

“It can, it can.” Altan looks sidelong at Serge, cannily through his lashes. “The sorcerers, here - it has to be a great advantage to have one on your team. Resurrect your soldiers, two or three for the price of one mercenaries and meatshields.” He’s trying to suss out if healing magic is normal - as much as any magic can be said to be normal - in this new-to-him world.

[serge_sallust]

"Life taking is easy for the sorcerers, but I haven't heard of them giving it. Healing from grievous wounds, certainly, though the tattle on that is they hoard such magic for themselves, so as to live as long as the krakens do - and as fearsomely." Serge firms his grip on Altan as they swerve through the busier and tidier streets of the district where Captain Rillsgaad keeps his office. He tilts his head to Altan's, "Tricks with flame and wind will draw some gasps, but raising the dead would be a flare all would see."

He straightens up, and Altan sees a conspiring grin across Serge's face. "Of course, if your painful blight were to rapidly mollify, I'd be the only one who knew. You might need to bow some more for Rillsgaad; the grog will make you more pliable, too."

[altanhawke]

“I do prefer the kind of pirate who’s a clever fellow and not just a bully,” Altan agrees. “Let’s find us a bit of shadow out of the wind - and away from too many prying eyes.” Still leaning on Serge to help him do so he props his shoulders against the wall once they do find that alcove and clasps both hands over the bound wound. His expression tenses not with pain but with focus, like he’s picking a lock and expecting guards at any moment, and there’s a very subdued pulse of green light, along with a half-remembered smell of citrus as if it’s wafted from the docks, and then he sags in fatigue for a moment, for all that he’s just apparently patched himself of the dire wound he had been carrying all day and then some.

[serge_sallust]

The sharp and tangy scent of tropical fruit hits Serge's nose, sending him briefly to the warm lands across the sea. He allows himself a moment to transport, then returns, still holding up the sagging carriage of Altan. In that moment, Altan feels a bit lighter, but Serge keeps his arm firmely wrapped under Altan's shoulders. He briefly scans the street to see if anyone noticed. Seems like not a soul. He rests his eyes on Altan, again, and whispers "Do you feel more whole now? The effort of the magic, whatever you expended to perform it, has left you on the balance restored?"

[altanhawke]

Altan returns his toothy performative grin, proud of and satisfied with the performance of his magic. “Do you feel tired out, after the wind picks up the sail you just tied down? If the magic the sorcerers here use costs them more than it would do to do things the long way … I’d say I could do this all day …” He stands fully under his own power. “But you’re right, it takes it out of a body. Not for long, though. A drink would help.”

[serge_sallust]

Serge gently lets go of Altan and steps back a single step like he's just set down a thin and fragile vase on a dais. He observes and measures Altan's posture and stance, not showing his wonder and curiosity at the marked improvement in both. "So, you're saying that your power comes from drinking? If we have to venture to a few taverns today to replenish your stores, we can, but for now a little tipple at the Pit will have to do, as we're on the Captain's business. Let's be on our way." Serge turns back to the street from their sheltered spot.

[belthorne]

“And glad I am that I have a trustworthy fellow like you to make sure that as harmless as I am in my cups, I’m not too easily taken advantage of.” Altan follows Serge to the Pit, eager to meet the next pirate Captain and further distract himself from his confusion over being shipwrecked from his own world.

[serge_sallust]

The way to Slake's Pit becomes windier along older, narrower streets built when Sandsparr was a younger city, when the hovels and houses huddled together for security. The buildings can hardly be called hovels anymore, dwelling stories taller and clad in brick and wood. Slake's Pit, true to its name, is an exception. A dark, stout building of brick that hasn't been touched by a mason's healing trowel in years, sticking out stubbornly in between taller and grander neighbors. Serge holds the splintering wooden doors to the pub open for Altan, "Rillsgaad's office is the shiny place across the street from here, but the Pit stays around to remind him of how he started, watery ale and all." Smoke, the smell of sour beer, and curiously animated conversations for mid-morning drift through the door way.